


The Merchant's Gusli

by NamiSazanami



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, One Shot, Pre-Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:23:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8211688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamiSazanami/pseuds/NamiSazanami
Summary: There was little Draco loved more than sitting by the sea early in the morning, trading in the busy market place by day and enjoying rich parties he was hired to play for daily by wealthy merchants and nobles, late into the night. But above all else, he loved playing his favourite instrument, his 12-string gusli. It was his most prized possession and, what he would soon come to learn, the his key to the sea-longing in his heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Hex Files](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Hex_Files), which was closed for financial and health reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Hex Files collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thehexfiles/profile).

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all the characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Scholastic, Inc., and AOL/ Time Warner, Inc., etc. No money is being made nor permission given. 

This story is an adaptation of the Russian byliny (a type of epic ballad, meaning ‘what has been’), _Sadko_. See the painting: _Sadko in the Underwater Kingdom_ by IlyaRepin. Neither story nor painting belongs to me. I am just using them as inspiration. 

Thank you to my betas: Imperial Mint and Sevfan.

...

  
_**Sea Longing**_ -Sara Teasdale  
A THOUSAND _miles beyond this sun-steeped wall_  
Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand,  
The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land  
With the old murmur, long and musical;  
The windy waves mount up and curve and fall,  
And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,--  
Tho' I am inland far, I hear and know,  
For I was born the sea's eternal thrall.  
I would that I were there and over me  
The cold insistence of the tide would roll,  
Quenching this burning thing men call the soul,--  
Then with the ebbing I should drift and be  
Less than the smallest shell along the shoal,  
Less than the sea-gulls calling to the sea.  


...

_ The Merchant’s Gusli  _

...

There were few things of such beauty that could rival Peverell Bay early morning in the middle of summer. The sun was just rising in the sky and the clouds were casting brilliant pink and orange shadows across a cerulean blue canvas above the ocean. All sailors beware, but beach walkers rejoice. The smooth, white sand was still slightly cool to the touch of bare feet, and the crisp ocean air was rolling in steadily with a light fog that covered the beach and anyone awake at this hour, breathing it all in.

One Draco Malfoy was the only human enjoying the glories of the morning this day. And as he did nearly every morning, Draco was playing his famous 12-string gusli to the gulls circling around him. 

There was little Draco loved more than sitting by the sea early in the morning, trading in the busy market place by day and enjoying rich parties he was hired to play for daily by wealthy merchants and nobles, late into the night. But above all else, he loved playing his favourite instrument, his gusli. It had been passed down to him by his great grandfather, who had travelled the seas his entire life as an explorer. He hadn’t brought much wealth back to his family or discovered any new lands in the world. Instead he had chosen to spend what he’d had in the moment and lived how he could off what the ocean and the land could give; that, he had said, was adventure and freedom in itself, like no land-imprisoned man could ever know. 

Draco often attributed his love for Peverell Bay as the sea fever in his blood that went back to even before his great grandfather Eridanus, who wasn’t the only ship-bound explorer in the family. Draco had loved sitting for hours on his grandfather’s lap, listening to the old man’s adventures out on the roiling ocean tides; fighting pirates, rescuing fair maidens, travelling to far-off lands where odd clicking languages were spoken and battling the angry water demons when the occasion called. 

But the one thing Eridanus had prized most of all was his old string instrument that he could play the most beautiful music on and gather everyone near to come and hear. The story was that he had won the enchanting instrument from a scorned water nix who had tried to lure Eridanus and his crew down into her watery depths with her enchanting voice and sweet music. Eridanus had shaken himself out of the spell in a fortuitous moment where he had tripped over a stick on his path towards the temptress. Whereupon, the fine rocks, shells and other trinkets he had collected in his satchel, which he had intended to sell to a jeweller in the next town they made port at, had slipped out and clattered against a rock. The high pitched shattering of the nautiluses, conks, small pearls and sea glass had miraculously broken the hold the song had had on him. With quick thinking, he had then been able to devise a clever plan to free his men by betting the wily nix that he could play finer music on her gusli than she could herself, and thus bring forth a larger crowd to come and listen. 

It had been a close tie, with the island’s cormorants as the judges, but Eridanus had been declared the winner and he had quickly whisked his crew off and away from the island as fast as the winds could carry them, with their freedom and prized gusli in his hands. 

Draco had been most fond of that particular story and was honoured when Grandfather Eridanus had finally bequeathed the magical instrument over to him before his final voyage, at over a hundred years old – fresh salt air had been his secret, he had said. 

Draco took great pride and care in his instrument as his hands caressed the ancient carved wood and taut strings. He made sure to always put his very heart and soul into every piece he performed to prove that he deserved the honour of playing it, lest the sea nix come to try and take it back. Draco would rather die than let that happen, for he had promised Grandfather Eridanus that he would make him proud and continue to create beautiful music with its strings for as long as he lived.

Although the Malfoy family had fallen out of wealth several generations ago, preferring to set their sights on reckless exploration and travel, Draco was still able to support his mother and father by successfully pulling in several hundred senkas a week from the many parties where he was asked to play. This thankfully helped in adding to his meagre earnings he did daily with his and his friend Blaise’s fishing trade. All in all, they weren’t rich men, but rarely were they in need of anything either. Draco and his family lived a simple life, and though part of him always imagined himself out in the world following in his great grandpa’s footsteps from time to time, Draco was grateful for what he had. After all, how many men could boast that they were able to attend a different feast every night, play the music they loved and watch it light up a whole room with dancing and laughter? He was truly a lucky man, indeed. 

Sitting on the shore in his rolled up breeches and sleeves, gusli lying comfortably in his lap, Draco was content. In fact, as far as he was concerned, there was no place he would rather be than in this beautiful city of Peverell. No city was as full of life and diversity and wonders as his home. 

But there was one thing Draco wished he had in life, and that was someone with whom to spend his days. He knew, though they rarely voiced their worries, that his parents’ greatest wish was for him to settle down somewhere with someone special. But for all the parties and feasts he attended, and all the beautiful women he met who would look his way and request a song or dance, he knew that none of them would ever think of truly becoming his, for he was a poor musician and they were rich. What could he possibly offer them other than his music? 

Draco gazed out at the shining seas, letting himself become mesmerised by the lapping waves, and thought of the one love of his life that did not judge between poor man and rich man. If only his Peverell Bay were of flesh and blood with whom he could settle down and be happy! 

The sea and his music were all he needed. Now, he just had to satisfy his parents with that. But maybe the sea was always meant to be his one love, like so many Malfoys before him. In fact, it was amazing the Malfoy line had been able to last as long as it had, considering.

Sighing wearily, Draco ran his fingers through the grains of sand and continued to gaze out at the unending waves lapping up on the shores. Some days, while he sat out here, alone, playing his gusli to the salty water, he liked to think that the ocean was listening to him. That when he murmured into the winds, news of his day’s accomplishments, sorrows, worries, and the like that the waves were responding in kind; reaching languidly to tickle his feet when he was down on his luck; swirling merrily around and running back and forth in a childish game of tag when he was relaying news of joy; and crashing, frothing angrily at the shore in empathy when he was expressing particular angst. But all became well again, his own heart and the waters in kind, when Draco would pick up his 12-string gusli and play for as long as there was a star in the sky lending its light to play by. 

In fact, sometimes he was almost _sure_ the ocean was listening to him somehow. For following the times he would play his gusli exceptionally long, sometimes beginning with a sorrowful tune, changing to a more playful piece, until finally he was plucking furiously at the strings and performing joyous compositions like it were for the gods themselves he was playing, he would always find a lone, perfectly whole sand dollar lying in the middle of his path whenever he left. A rarity as they were in such a busy port, one would not simply be washed up by accident, but rather, had to be placed there deliberately. Well, at least sent through the waves deliberately. He was sure of it. 

“Perhaps I am talking to a child of the sea, for who else could make my heart feel so open and free and set my soul at ease?” 

He dug his toes deeper into the sand and breathed in the salty ocean air, all the while contemplating what he would do that day with Blaise, what he would bring home for supper that night for his family and whether a noble would approach him tonight to play. 

It was just as he had taken up his gusli and begun to idly pluck a few lazy notes out of the strings that an enormous wave rose suddenly out of the sea before him and rolled quickly forward, straight at him, until it stopped mere paces away from where Draco sat. 

Shocked frozen and not knowing what to do to protect himself, or where he could go on this tiny inlet set apart from the main city, he clutched convulsively at his gusli in anxious anticipation, wondering what he could possibly have done to upset the gods of the sea this much. Was it something he had done while drunk after a party? Had there been a denizen of the sea listening to him late one of those nights he had come here to share the sea’s company? But surely he had never said anything untoward to warrant such a harsh reaction! 

“Glaucus, help me!” he cried helplessly. 

Suddenly, from the top froth of the towering waves came a man’s bare, large, and muscled torso, rising up until the man was steadily riding the current of the wave as though they were a light wind to contend with. His beard and wild mane were a deep green of flowing seaweed and nestled atop his head was a gold and pearl encrusted crown, glinting in the morning sunlight. 

The fog seemed to have thickened around them and Draco was sure for a moment that he must be dreaming. 

“Musician!” the man called forth in a deep, commanding voice that brooked no argument; one could tell he was used to giving orders and having his every word obeyed. As the mysterious man spoke, he rose even higher atop the waves, and Draco could see a fish’s tail sprouting from his lower half. The merman’s strong, stentorian voice boomed out again before Draco could even think of a reply to the summons, his voice having dried up in his throat as he gazed up at the mighty figure. 

“Are you the creator of the enchanting music we hear even from under the deep waters of the sea?” 

Draco stood in wonder at the inquiry. Slowly, he bowed from his waist while grasping his gusli to his chest in a white-knuckled grip. “Yes, I am he whom you seek.” 

The half man, half fish smiled affably, transforming his entire face and making Draco relax, if only just a bit. 

“I am the Sea King and I have a proposition for you,” he declared, appraising Draco from his high perch, and eyeing the gusli in his hands with something close to reverence. 

“Your work is well known to us deep in the underwater kingdom, where we have spent many a night dancing in our halls to your far off tune that only faintly reaches our ears. It would be an honour to have you come and play for us personally. It is my son’s birthday in a few days and he is most fond of the melodies you create. You are familiar of him no doubt, for he is the resident and protector of this very bay and has spent many a long day upon this surf, listening to you play.” 

Draco could not believe his ears. The protector of Peverell Bay, of whom many had claimed to be a playful nix spotted causing the occasional trouble for fishermen, had been listening, enraptured, to him!? Surely he knew he was good within the walls of the fine Peverell City, but never had he dreamed his fame would reach beyond. And even if he did not believe his skills to be quite worthy of the Sea King himself, who was he, a mere merchant, to refuse the great Ruler of the Seas’ request? 

Draco abruptly fell to one knee and raised his head slightly to reply humbly, “I accept your offer, most graciously, Your Majesty, and shall come to your kingdom to play for you and your son.” He paused, looking up with uncertainty in his eyes, wondering if he dare ask a question of the king. 

The Sea King saw his moment’s hesitation, however, and replied, “You will of course be paid in kind, and have no reason to wait for your reward. I generously thank those that fill my halls with joyous music and entertainment.” He reached out an arm by his side and from the waters surfaced the largest pearl he had ever seen in the shape of a seahorse. It was three times the size of Draco’s head and glinted in all the colours of the rainbow at every point it was hit under the sun’s light. It was a magnificent work of art such as Draco had never thought he could ever be in possession of. Surely that would secure his mother and father for a long time to come. He could fetch quite a shiny senka for that piece. 

“Your Majesty,” Draco cried in shock, “you are too generous.” 

“Nonsense,” the Sea King’s deep voice chuckled. “Music is worth more than any gold that can be found in this world, above shore or below. If the world were a fairer place for men, you would be heralded as a king among them.

“Your retainer up front, then, for I have no doubt that you will come. I will expect you in a couple days’ time, at midday, for our Feast of the Ancient Reef, which is also why I am here, gracing these waters at this time of year.” The Sea King pushed the large fish along a wave that washed up by Draco’s feet. 

Before the king could sink back into the waves, however, Draco cautiously ventured forth and asked, “Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but how am I to get to your halls? And how will I know where to go?” 

The king chuckled softly again at him and continued to descend until Draco could see only his head. “ _We_ will find _you_. Take a boat out in two days’ time and I will have someone fetch you from there. Until then.” He nodded his head ever so slightly and then vanished from sight, the waters immediately descending and returning to their normal calm. 

Draco blinked blindingly into the apparently now-risen sun reflecting off the sand. He was not quite sure whether to believe that he had just been commissioned by the Sea King himself. He blinked again and then shielded his eyes with the back of his hand as he realised that the glare in his eyes was not from the sun but from the large opaque fish at his feet!

He must go home and tell his family of this wonderful news! 

He turned and stumbled forward to leave the beach, looking down suddenly to see a small object almost hidden in the white sand and seaweed. It was a simple sand dollar. 

Draco smiled as he picked up the greyish-white shell and traced his finger across the five-star shape raised across its surface. Finally putting it away carefully, like a precious cuttlebone pick, tucked beneath the top string of his gusli, he made a mental note to pick up a new jar on his way home. The glass one by his bedroom window would not be able to hold many more of these little gifts if his generous ocean friend continued to keep up this tradition. 

And now that Draco knew for sure that he had an admirer from the ocean, he had a good feeling he knew exactly who these gifts were coming from, making him all the more anxious and excited to play in the halls of the Sea King in two days’ time! Perhaps he would finally be able to meet his dear friend and look upon his face at last.

-_-_-_-

Draco’s parents were shocked at their son’s good fortune, to say the least.

“Surely the Sea King has not graced a human mortal with his presence for over a century!”

“We will be a rich and prosperous family once more, my son, if you play well for the People of the Sea!” 

Draco left the small house of his parents, taking along his payment from the Sea King and promising his parents he would find out where to take it to weigh its value. But before that, he had to meet Blaise in Peverell’s busiest trade centre to trade with the morning fishermen for the day’s freshest fish to sell to the villagers. He also had to secure himself a vessel for two days’ time to take him out to sea so that he could play for the Sea King in his halls. 

Draco’s head was still spinning with the prospects of it all when he arrived at market with Blaise an hour later. 

“What’s got that ear-splitting smile on your face?” Draco’s friend asked good-naturedly as they haggled with the fishermen, bartering over size and price and smell. “Did you attend a wild party last night? Meet a pretty girl willing to put up with you for more than an evening of merriment?”

Draco heaved an armful of fish onto a slab of slate for the morning customers, choosing to ignore Blaise’s question for the moment. Not until the fishermen had left and the morning rush had yet to come, did Draco lean over and murmur softly, “I have been invited by the Sea King himself to play my gusli in the halls of his underwater kingdom. I leave in two days’ time.” 

Blaise’s eyes grew wide in wonder, then quickly his face grew dark in warning. “Take care, Draco. This is wonderful news for you and your family, but know that the sea folk are fond tricksters. They have little inhibition when determined to take something they seek.” 

Draco meant to ask further what Blaise meant, but unfortunately the morning rush had arrived and kept the duo busy all morning and late into the afternoon. Later that very night, Draco was asked to perform at a lesser noble’s house for his daughter’s coming of age celebration, and never one to refuse a job, especially when a fine feast and dancing were promised, Draco accepted. 

Like with every party, Draco played his very best as though the state of his soul depended upon it. It was for this very reason that his playing was so widely acclaimed and well sought after. But what came as a first for Draco that night was something he had secretly sought after for a long time, hoped for and dreamed of, but never expected to actually happen. That night, at the end of the celebration, the master of the house offered his daughter’s hand in marriage to Draco.

Oh how many times had he been received by rich and beautiful women who sang his praises as a musician, but would otherwise never look twice at him on the streets or grand halls of the city? Sometimes he felt like nothing more than a king’s jester at court. But his love of music and playing as well as his obligation to take care of his family as the only son always brought him back, never denying a party he was commissioned for and never giving up in his chase to find a wife to please his parents. Though, he knew the chances of a woman of higher class picking a merchant such as him were slim to none, which was why he could only wonder in astonishment and not a little suspicion what he was being offered now. 

“But I am just a humble merchant,” Draco exclaimed in shocked protest, ending his playful melody abruptly with a slip of his fingers. 

“No, no, my young man,” the lesser noble cried. “You are a skilled musician, who could become known far and wide around the world, not just in Peverell City. I will take you to see the wonders of other cities far and wide! You will become famous, playing beautiful music for kings and queens of other lands.” The man’s eyes shone brightly and his cheeks, already rosy from the copious mugs of mead he’d already consumed, blushed all the darker at the prospects. Draco had no doubt his own eyes were just as glassy, his mind faraway with the prospects of world acclaim and the future of making a living off just playing his gusli for the rest of his life. 

“Please accept my offer,” the lesser noble continued. “It is a once in a lifetime chance, young man. And my daughter is so fond of you and your playing; it would be a fine match indeed. You would see the world and all the wonders it has to offer you, my boy.” The man smiled joyously, drunk on the merriment of the night. 

Those last words snapped Draco away from his far-off dreams of fame and glory, however. Leave Peverell City? Leave the Bay? He couldn’t, not right now. He had a job to do; a very important job. The Sea King’s son was also very fond of Draco’s playing and Draco had promised the king he would play for his son’s birthday. He could not leave now! 

“I am honoured by your offer, sir, but I beg you give me leave to think it over. I still have a job I am promised to do in a day’s time. I pray you let me keep my word as an honest man and fulfil my duty.” 

The noble agreed, albeit reluctantly, and demanded that Draco give his answer in three days’ time. This was a one-time offer, after all, and time and tide would wait for no man. Draco agreed and vowed to think it over carefully. 

He could not believe how fast his fortunes had changed in one day. Surely the gods had finally decided to look down kindly upon him, for what else could explain his amazing luck? Draco’s life was changing fast, and already he was feeling overwhelmed with the prospects.

-_-_-_-

A day later found Draco boarding a small vessel with five other men out for deep-sea fishing expedition that would take him out to where the Sea King had promised Draco he would be found.

They had been out at sea for several hours when the fishing vessel unexpectedly shuddered to a halt. Though fighting against the waves’ and winds’ push and pull, it stood still as though being held up from beneath by a giant hand. Buoying violently from side to side and creaking in the harsh winds that blew fiercely around it, threatening to break the mast, the ship shuddered furiously from the abuse, but it would not budge. 

“It must be the Sea King,” a few of the crew muttered fearfully, looking uncertainly at one another, panic and suspicion in their eyes. 

The captain cried angrily, “Who among us has angered the Sea King for him to act so vengefully against our small vessel!?” 

Draco stepped forward to the stern to face the captain. “It is I,” he yelled against the keen creaking of the wood and the moaning of the winds. “It is I who the Sea King wants. Do not fear.” He walked over to the side and before anyone knew what had happened, he had jumped overboard. 

Down, down, down into the depths of the ocean he went, until he no longer felt the sharp sting of the cold, salty fingers, but encountered the warm, gentle caress of the undercurrents. And just when he realised that he would soon be running out of breath and his lungs began to ache piercingly with the call for air, he was grabbed from behind and twisted to face the strange visage of a young man, who looked no older than Draco himself. 

The man had wild black hair that swept in every which way but with the direction of the current; larger than normal, brilliant green eyes that shone brightly like the only lamp on a dark, starless night; and pale, moonlight skin that glowed faintly like light playing on the waters themselves. Around his neck he wore a string of shells and possibly teeth that stood out in proud reds and yellows against his toned chest. His sinewy, muscled arms were also adorned with stringed beads and other unfamiliar decorations that gave him a slightly wild look, yet, if Draco were honest with himself, oddly appealing. Looking below, Draco saw a shiny tale of brown and green, the same colour as the merman’s startling eyes, swishing playfully this way and that. 

Without warning, the young man took Draco’s face in his slightly webbed fingers, pulled towards himself, and then pressed his lips urgently onto Draco’s. He deftly opened Draco’s mouth with his lips and tongue and sucked out the remaining air in Draco’s lungs, which wasn’t much. Draco, too shocked by the moment to register what the ethereal nymph was doing, hadn’t even noticed the quickened pace of his heart to even react. But before he knew it, the merman breathed something other than air, but not quite water, into Draco’s mouth before parting lips. 

As they broke apart and Draco immediately breathed in reflexively in shock, he discovered that his lungs no longer ached. He sucked in another mouthful of seawater and was more than surprised that his body took it in as though it was air. 

Draco opened his mouth to thank the young man, but the other was quicker and placed a finger over Draco’s lips and spoke instead inside his head. ‘ _You’re welcome._ ’ 

“My name is Harry, by the way. Harry Peverell.” This time he spoke aloud, but Draco could still feel the other man’s deep tones echoing soothingly in the back of his mind and feel the currents of the waters pushing with the echo of each sound against his eardrums. He was sure that if Harry were to speak on land, his strong voice would carry for leagues, not unlike that of the Sea King’s. 

As Harry looked unblinkingly at Draco, Draco realised that this was his turn to speak. He opened his mouth again, unhindered this time. 

“I’m Draco Malfoy,” he said, silently fascinated as his voice was able to carry through the waters in odd, high pitches he had never used before. It was almost as though he was speaking another language. Brushing it aside for the moment, he smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Harry Peverell.” As he said the name he realised that this must be the young nix for whom Draco was to play. 

“I already know who you are,” Harry answered, a playful smile on his lips. “Long have I listened to your cheerful, sweet, sorrowful, and loving melodies from my shores. I am honoured to have you play for me in my home tonight.” 

Draco shook his head, thoroughly enchanted just looking at this boy. There was no longer any doubt in Draco’s mind that the protector of Peverell Bay was indeed a nix; nixes were much craftier and more seductive than merfolk, or so Draco had heard. But nonetheless, the natural magical pull of the nix was not enough to make Draco forget the manners his mother and father had raised him with. “I beg your pardon, but the honour is all mine, sire. And happy birthday,” he added, hoping that was the proper thing to say to a nix. 

“Thank you,” Harry replied, smirking playfully once again. “And it’s just Harry, if you don’t mind. Draco?” 

Draco nodded numbly, but his mind was soon taken to other things as he felt Harry’s hands move from his shoulders, where they had rested long after the life-sustaining kiss had been given, to clasp his wrist. 

“Come, or we will be late for the Feast of the Ancient Reef. And my birthday, of course.” He pulled at Draco’s wrist and off they swam, faster than Draco had ever swum before. They passed fish of all colours and sizes and other merfolk who seemed in just as much a rush as him and Harry, no doubt this party was mandatory to all sea folk, what with the king himself attending. That’s when Draco realised how clear his sight was. Harry must have not only given him the ability to breathe like a merman, but also the eyes of one of his kind as well, for everything was crystal clear and Draco found himself longing for Harry to slow down so that he could take the time to view these wonders with more appreciation for the bounties of the sea. 

“ _Do not worry, young musician._ ” Harry looked back and his eyes flashed to the gusli strapped to Draco’s side with adore. “ _If you like, we can spend more time exploring the ocean’s depths together later_.” 

Draco nodded fervently. He would like that very much; he could not even begin to express his yearning to see more of the open sea, now spread out around him, making him feel as though he were in some kind of underwater fairytale. 

Much too soon, Draco and Harry had reached the outskirts of the great underwater castle and Draco gaped in wonder. There was no roof and most of the walls seemed to be constructed of coral, barnacles, sponges, mussel shells, and clams grown for many centuries upon white marble stone. Many fish had made their homes within the holes of the opaque green, white and pink walls and atop the arches of the doorways. But while it seemed very old and ancient, it was also very impressive and awe-inspiring that nature – or magic? – could create something so grand and magnificent. 

Harry said, “I’m glad you like my home.” There was a shy quality to his voice this time and Draco looked to see that Harry had his eyes fixed upon the towering structure and seemed to be avoiding Draco’s. Before Draco could inquire further, Harry had tugged his wrists again and was leading him inside. 

“Come. The party has begun and we are all awaiting to hear you play.” 

The moment they passed through the doors and into the great hall, Harry disappeared into the crowd. But Draco’s attention was already captivated by all the guests in the large royal arena – merfolk and every sea creature imaginable; from the smallest limpet and sea squirt to the longest eels, strangest scorpionfish, and gurnards, as well as turtles, lobsters, crabs, seahorses, and leafy sea dragons!

Draco was immediately greeted by the Sea King, who sat in his chair at the end of the hall, no longer with a fish’s tail, but two legs, and arms open wide, beckoning Draco to his side. Next to the king sat the demure looking, and stunningly beautiful Sea Queen, bright red hair pulled back in an elaborate twist and held together by seaweed and brilliantly shinning shells, entwined through her curling locks. 

“I am glad to see my son has brought you here safely.” The king gestured Draco to a golden stool to the side of him and Draco sat. “Now,” he paused, amplifying the hushed anticipation of the crowd that had gathered, “play for us, my dear musician.” He clapped his hands together and Draco immediately brought his fingers down upon the strings deftly, and all who gathered in the hall immediately took up the dance. 

Like every occasion before, though perhaps a bit more enthusiastically this time, Draco drove his whole heart into each note, watching with glee as all the creatures of the sea took up the tune and danced, filling the whole hall with merriment. It was a sight that Draco was sure no human had ever seen. He sat transfixed to the scene before him of flashing gills and the ear-catching sounds of strange and magnificent languages of both man and fish. He felt strangely compelled to join their numbers and dance among them. But he did not get up, like he usually would in other parties, and dance among the guests, for he was not sure what was expected of him.

But that uncertainty was taken out of his hands when Harry appeared from out of the crowd and took up Draco in his arms, still playing his gusli, and swung him around the floor; spinning, twirling, laughing, and moving with a grace under the water that Draco had never felt before above on land. And it was wonderful! 

Draco played every song he had ever heard, written, or thought about, throwing some new material in whenever the fancy struck him, and danced with Harry long into the night. 

He did not know how much time had passed, because time did not seem to pass in the same way here as on land, but suddenly everyone slowed down dancing and started to clear to the sides. Draco wondered whether he should keep playing when the king, who had gotten up from his chair for the first time that night and made his way to the centre of the hall, called loudly for a fast, upbeat song. 

Draco felt himself being pushed from behind until he was at the edge of the crowd, facing the king. Moving his fingers seamlessly into the next beat, he began plucking the strings in a cheerful, fast tune. 

Laughing boisterously, the king praised Draco’s playing and called for more. Faster! Louder! Don’t stop, quick-fingers, don’t stop! 

Soon the king was stomping his feet and spinning faster and faster to the beat of the music. 

The waters around them seemed to shift slightly, though Draco was so lost in concentration, trying to play his very best for the Sea King that he was quite oblivious to the distress growing amongst the rest of the guests. 

Faster! Faster!

It was not until the Sea Queen came forward and laid a commanding hand on his rapidly plucking fingers that he looked up in dazed alarm. The abrupt end to the music seemed to break everyone out of a kind of mystified spell Draco hadn’t even known he’d been putting them under. 

The Sea King stopped dancing and seemed to come to himself; laughing with uninhibited joy, he returned cheerfully to his seat. The queen, meanwhile, still had her eyes on Draco. 

“I apologise for stopping your playing, young musician. But you see, while we see only a happy king dancing down here among us, up there,” she pointed upwards towards the surface of the sea, “he is creating great turmoil amongst the waves and winds. We do not want a ship wrecked for our own jovial carelessness. I am afraid we will have to call this night to an end.” 

Draco nodded solemnly, glad to feel no blame from the queen directed at him for the carelessly dangerous moment he had unknowingly helped create. He looked about, wondering if he should ask Harry to take him back to the surface, when he heard the king call him forward again, asking for him to play some more. 

With a slight pang of his heart, Draco pulled at one of the strings on his gusli until it snapped, springing back sharply from his hand. 

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” he cried as he stepped forward, “but one of my strings has broken!” 

The king sighed as he shook his head with a frown. “Alas, I could have danced for days to that tune.

“But no matter,” the king said, waving his hand as though to brush the issue aside, and called Draco forward, closer. “Young musician,” the king spoke sombrely, the previous youthful excitement gone from his face. “You have played very well for us tonight; much better than I had ever expected. It is clear that what your forbearer once stole has been rightfully reclaimed through the love and skill with which you so exquisitely play.” 

Draco blinked in alarm. He had not known the Sea King had been aware of who he or his grandpa Eridanus were, nor where his gusli had originally come from, but was relieved that he and his precious gusli were not in any danger due to his great grandfather’s past transgressions. It seemed like the king was officially granting him ownership of the instrument. 

The Sea King said, “I will of course pay you for your time down here; however, I wish to reward you for your masterly skill through means other than gold and riches. 

“Please,” he swept his hand out, “I offer you one of my children in marriage so that you may stay down here and create beautiful music for us forever.” A line of fifty or so mermaids, merman, and nixes from all parts of the world’s seas lined up in front of Draco and the king, standing at attention. “Choose,” the king commanded. 

Choose? This was quite unexpected. And such an honour! One of the Sea King’s own offspring! Surely a lowly musician did not garner such praise and reward? In comparison, the lesser noble’s offer was put to shame. 

And yet, Draco hesitated; Blaise’s words came back to him from a few days ago. Would this truly be in Draco’s best interest, or did the Sea King only wish to make Draco’s music his own and keep him in his halls for as long as he pleased? The sea folk were notorious tricksters, after all; Draco only had to reference the nix from whom Grandpa Eridanus had stolen the precious gusli to prove that. 

Draco was not sure what to do. For if he did choose one of the king’s children, would he not then be condemned to live the rest of his life in the sea, to never return to the surface to see his family and friends again? And though slighter in comparison, what of the proposal from the lesser noble; marriage to his beautiful daughter and the chance at world renowned fame and fortune? Yet, at the same time, this was his one chance to commit to the one love of his life that he knew he could not live without. 

But what did he really want? 

“You seem a good man, so I feel I should warn you,” the queen appeared at his shoulder and whispered softly in his ear, “that once you bed any one of our children, you will be mated with them for the rest of their life, however long that will be, and you will not be able to return to your home above shore. Do not think lightly of this offer and choose wisely.” 

Draco nodded, it was as he had feared, though why the queen was being generous in warning him, he did not know. He was thankful nonetheless, and decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Deliberating, he let his gaze sweep over the faces of all the young mermen, mermaids and nixes alike, wondering what he should do. He examined all the beautiful women, comparing them to the noble ladies he had fancied at home. There was no comparison there either; the children of the Sea King were not known as charmers and seductresses for nothing. They lived up to their name, each and every one of them. And yet, he saw nothing but the cold heart of a siren in each of their eyes. Though, he suspected it was a result of his own fears being reflected back to him as he regarded his fate of refusing a sea king or never returning to the surface again. Neither looked promising. 

But then his gaze fell upon Harry and stuck. It was suddenly clear to Draco that Harry must be the most gorgeous creature in the room. No other seemed to rival the wild expression in his eyes, the defined muscles in his shoulders and upper body, nor the gentle humour in his face. Had it not been Harry who had requested his presence here and had many a day sat just off shore, listening to Draco play, if what the king said was true? 

Was it also not Harry who could understand his love for Peverell Bay better than anyone else, when he was the one charged with the protection and sustainment of Peverell’s very waters? And who else but a child of the sea could understand Draco’s love for the water and the way his soul called to the constant beating of the waves and the spray of the sea and the salty wind on his face early in the morning? Harry seemed to encompass all those things he longed for, but never knew he could claim as his own as anything more than a secret, restless desire. 

Without realising it, Draco had drifted over to where Harry stood, smirking expectantly at Draco. 

“I choose you,” Draco said. The words were out of his mouth and carried on the currents within the hall, untameable, as though they had life of their own, before Draco even knew what he was saying. Draco reached out and took Harry’s proffered hand into his own. 

There was a roar of approval from the king and queen and all those gathered, breaking the spell Harry’s eyes seemed to have on Draco. The couple were suddenly pushed the front of the hall and immediately bonded by the wrist in an elaborate handfasting ceremony, spoken by the king and queen that had Draco’s head spinning, though his eyes never left Harry’s. 

In a whirlwind, the couple were then escorted away into one of the castle’s many open rooms, where they were led to share a bed for the night to consummate the bonding as mates.

-_-_-_-

Draco lay in the soft bed of white sand covered with wide strips of seaweed, bigger than he had ever seen before, mere inches from Harry, staring uncertainly at the young nix. Time stretched on and Draco’s thoughts never stopped piling atop one another, making his head spin and his uncertainty rise. Harry seemed to be patiently waiting for the most part, but nixes were not especially well known for letting fate make their decisions for them.

“You chose me, yet you do not want me?” Harry spoke slowly, warningly, and let the lilting, musical timbre of his voice playfully dance in Draco’s ears and worm its way into his thoughts, guilefully trying to clear his mind of all but Harry. The water nix lifted a hand to Draco’s hip and began stroking it up Draco’s side, slowly, his eyes never leaving Draco’s. 

Draco blinked several times, steeling himself to not succumb to anything just yet; the Sea Queen’s words were ringing like midday bells in his ear, peeling loudly and echoing in the far corners of his head. 

“If it is your family and trading partner friend you worry for, I can promise that as long as they live by my bay, I will make sure they are prosperous for the rest of their lives. They will be well taken care of.” Harry smiled warmly, raising his hand further up, past Draco’s shoulder, to caress Draco’s cheek and then reached back to tangle his fingers in Draco’s fine, blond hair. “Rest assured,” he spoke sombrely, “the word of a nix is equivalent to gold in your world.” 

Draco was already breathing, or whatever it could be called down here, erratically, but he felt the need to still make a case against this. It could not be that easy, could it? He did feel the call of the sea, but what if it was sea magic that was making that longing stronger now? He didn’t want to never see his family again, after all; he didn’t want to just leave his whole life on land after one night of fun under the sea. 

He tried again. “But I –I hardly know you. I can’t suddenly decide to, all of a sudden to – to leave my life on land and join you in the water.” It seemed most unfair. What did Draco know of life under the sea? How was he expected to survive? He was not a nix like Harry, what would he do all day? Certainly not waylay lost sailors into their watery graves? He had no place here. 

But Harry did not seem to be stymied by the problem at all. He blinked slowly, as though turning the problem over in his mind, trying to look for the difficult knot Draco was presenting, and then asked blankly, “Why not?” 

Draco was unexpectedly shocked out of his building hysterical thoughts with the simple vehemence of the question. 

“Is that not what you had planned to do by accepting the lesser noble’s proposal of marriage to his daughter to travel the world and make a name for yourself? When, really, you did not actually want to leave my bay anyway. This is home.” Harry indicated with a sharp nod that bespoke no possible argument. “And besides, I can take you to a different world here within our waters, where you will be loved and praised for your playing, all without having to leave our beloved bay. Or,” he smiled invitingly, “I could take you to travel the world as well, but you would know that this would always be our home to return to.” 

There was that word again. _Our_?

And home. 

Draco did not ask how Harry knew all these details about his family, Blaise, and the noble’s proposition, for he had already suspected that if Harry could speak into his mind, he could glimpse into Draco’s thoughts, and Glaucus knew his thoughts had been broadcasting themselves loudly and clearly since the handfasting ceremony. He wondered if all those in the Hall had been privy to his worries. 

“No,” Harry shook his head, which seemed closer to Draco’s than it had been a second ago. “We do not violate another’s privacy unless there is a need, and everyone here already respects you for your fine playing.” 

Now Draco was certain, so he did not feel the need to voice his next question. 

“But _I_ saw the need as your rightful suitor and mate to see that you were well taken care of and all your needs met.” Harry paused and he massaged a steady finger down the back of Draco’s neck, making Draco’s eyes flutter in bliss. “And I _shall_ meet all your needs. That’s a promise.” 

Draco waited a moment to collect his head and protested, rather weakly, even to his own ears, “I still don’t know you, though. And you don’t really know me, besides supposedly listening to me play on shore.” 

Draco opened his eyes when Harry’s hand stopped its ministrations and was further perplexed to see a wide, playful, self-satisfied smile blooming across Harry’s face. 

“Ah, but I do know you. Very well in fact.”

Harry reached out a hand and plucked a perfectly round sand dollar from behind Draco’s ear with a smirk. “Who else did you think you were spilling all your secrets to for small tokens of the sea?” 

He had been right! A child of the ocean had been listening to him. It had been Harry that he had been playing to every day, talking to of his day-to-day troubles and goings-on, telling stories to and sharing jokes with; it was with Harry that he had become so accustomed to as part of his daily life that it had ceased to matter that it had seemed to be only the ocean waves with whom he was communicating. 

But it hadn’t been just the waves, it was Harry! 

Harry Peverell, son of the Sea King, protector of Draco’s beloved Peverell Bay, and the nix he had just been handfasted with to be mated for eternity. 

Draco blinked in astonishment. Harry was right, he did know him. Or rather, Harry knew Draco. 

Harry chuckled and reached out his other hand to wrap it behind Draco’s head. “In any case, we will have all the time in Sea to get to know each other. And that, I assure you, is a long enough time, indeed.” He pulled Draco a little closer, and Draco let him. “But before we do, we cannot leave this room without completing this bond, or I shall be forced to bring you back to the surface come morning.” 

Harry waited. Draco looked down at the little indent in the middle of Harry’s collarbone. He knew that if he did not accept now, he would not be able to come back, he had figured as much out for himself. But should he accept the nix’s offer? The man he had poured his heart and soul out to, who knew every one of his secrets, who had kept him and his precious bay safe and sound for as long as Draco could remember. 

Or should he instead choose to fall asleep now and let Harry take him back home? Could things be the same now that he knew who Harry was? Would Harry still come to see him at their spot after this? What would his family say? Blaise? …Would this break his mother’s heart if he left? 

Draco sighed and finally lifted his eyes, tracing the strong jaw and sculpted lips and nose up to the other’s startling eyes. 

Perhaps Harry could help him figure all his questions out later. 

He held his breath and then opened his mouth to ask, “If I kiss you again, will I lose the ability to breathe under water?”

But Harry just smiled and pulled Draco towards him, closing the small distance left between them, and kissed him for what seemed an eternity, adeptly and thoroughly. Soon Draco had forgotten the need to breathe all together. 

When they broke apart, Harry crawled on top of Draco and intoned, “When you’ve been kissed by a nix once, you will never drown again.” 

Draco didn’t think that was entirely true, he was sure he was drowning right now in Harry’s arms and there was no hope of ever coming up for air in his future. But he decided to save his protests for later. He no longer wanted for air anyway, he had just been promised the world in a life under the sea. 

And who could possibly ask for more? 

__

Fin


End file.
